


Careful

by NoThanksss



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Don't read if you're going to be triggered by this, EXPLICIT SELF HARM, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm not kidding guys, Just needed someone to project onto tbh, Self-Harm, idk what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28728951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoThanksss/pseuds/NoThanksss
Summary: Roman has a bad day.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Careful

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Literally just wanted to project on someone and I picked Roman just because. You could stick anyone else's name in there and it would still work, mostly. 
> 
> This isn't even a story I came up with, just had a bad day and wrote this instead of doing something stupid. 
> 
> Please heed the tags and uh... enjoy? If this is the kind of thing you enjoy, then cool. Me too.

Roman glanced around. The room was empty. Everyone had already gone to bed.

Everyone except for him.

He stood up from the couch slowly, taking a moment to stretch his legs. He had all the time in the world, really.

No one would know. They never did.

He ambled to his room, as if it were only coincidental that he was heading toward where his blades were hidden. As if he hadn’t been thinking about doing this all day.

Roman found himself in the bathroom, the door firmly closed and locked, just in case. As if there was a chance of getting caught, as if someone might actually get up and come knocking on the door this time.

They wouldn’t. They never did.

But Roman was perfectly fine with that. 

What would he even say if caught? How could he possibly explain himself?

He couldn’t explain it. Not even to himself. 

That didn’t stop him from pulling off his jeans, leaving him in just his underwear. He stared down at his thighs. Scars crossed over each other haphazardly, relics of his rocky history. He had always been surprised by how quickly the scars faded. No matter how hard he tried, they healed within a few days, leaving only the faintest trace behind.

Then again, maybe he just wasn’t very good at it.

Roman sighed, taking a moment to sort through his blades. He picked out what looked like the cleanest one. It would probably be fine.

He set it down and picked up his phone, checking the time. 12:30. Wonderful.

Well, he was already on his phone. Might as well scroll through his social media for a while. 

The truth is, Roman was a coward. Even after all this time, it wasn’t always… easy, hurting himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, because he did! It just… well, it hurt.

Yes, he knew that was the point.

Didn’t make it any easier.

Eventually, he set his phone aside. He could do this. He could, really. At this point he was just wasting time if he didn’t go through with it. He had classes in the morning; he should be getting rest.

Roman winced. Classes.

He had thought that maybe moving out would help things. Not that things had been bad growing up, because they hadn’t been. Not by a long shot. His family was great, even if his twin brother could be annoying. Things were great, everything was great.

He didn’t deserve to feel this way. Nothing was even wrong.

But at the same time, he couldn’t get rid of the overwhelming feeling that he deserved to _hurt_.

Roman picked up the chosen blade, fiddling with it between his fingers. Moving out hadn’t helped.

He trailed the blade lightly across his skin, leaving the faintest white line in its wake. It didn’t even hurt, but Roman was already tensing up.

_Pathetic._

Maybe a different spot would be better.

He repositioned the blade. This time he pressed a little harder, wincing as his leg stung slightly. 

_Worthless._

He stared down at the faint red line in dismay. It wasn’t even bleeding.

Fine. He’d just have to push through.

Roman shut his eyes and slashed the blade across his skin.

He hissed sharply as a burst of pain flared up in his leg. He snapped his eyes open, staring greedily as red bubbled up in the small cut he had made. Beautiful. It was so beautiful.

He swiped the blade again, watching with satisfaction as a new line of red appeared. It was always easier after the first cut.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so hard. He swiped the blade again and again, grim satisfaction filling him as his vision filled with red.

Red was his favorite color for a reason.

Finally, he came to a stop. He looked at his leg curiously. Blood formed in little beads along the lines he had just added to his collection. 

Roman sighed. He still hadn’t cut deep enough to get the blood to run down his leg.

He really wasn’t any good at this, was he?

He frowned. Maybe… 

He placed the blade down again, not looking too closely at where he put it. Sure, he knew full well that he was going over a cut he had just made, but it was hard to watch. He grit his teeth and pulled the blade again. Just a little deeper…

A few cuts later, he gave up. It wouldn’t be happening. Not tonight, anyway.

Roman set the bloodied blade down on the sink with a soft clink. Time to clean up.

He grabbed a wad of toilet paper, wiping up the mess on his leg. Grabbed another, got it wet under the faucet, and wiped his leg with that, too. That was almost the same thing as washing the cuts out with water, probably. 

He methodically rubbed antibiotic cream over his leg before covering the bright red cuts with a neatly folded paper towel he had grabbed earlier. He had run out of bandages a long time ago. 

He dropped the bloody toilet paper into the toilet, watching it until it disappeared. He knew if he didn’t pay careful attention, he would be anxious about having forgotten to get rid of the incriminating evidence later. Better to be sure now.

That taken care of, Roman grabbed his pajama pants off the ground, struggling to pull them on while still pressing his makeshift bandage against his leg. He used to secure it with duct tape, but he’d moved past that, mostly due to an unfortunate instance in which he couldn’t find any.

It didn’t matter, though. The bleeding would stop soon, anyway. He truly wasn’t any good at this whole self-harm thing. 

He leaned forward against the sink, letting his leg press into it, holding the paper towel in place. Almost done.

With shaking hands, Roman carefully washed off the blade. He had some sense, after all, despite what anyone said. 

He surveyed the bathroom one more time, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Maybe if this were a story, he’d foolishly leave his blade on the sink, or forget to flush the toilet after all. One of his roommates would find something he’d left behind in the morning. There’d be tears and hugs and it would be hard but eventually everything would be okay. 

But this wasn’t a story. This was real life.

And Roman was very, very careful.

As Roman lay in bed that night, one hand holding the paper towel firmly in place, he wondered how he had ever let himself get to this point. He wondered what had happened to the cheerful young boy who always had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

He wondered if he would ever be that way again.

He wondered if he would ever be free from the feelings of worthlessness that he felt he was drowning in more and more as the days went on.

He dug his fingers into the cuts on his leg, hissing slightly at the sharp pain, but relishing it all the same.

Somehow, he didn’t think so.

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
